


tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks and the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts

by goreds



Category: Casablanca (1942)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreds/pseuds/goreds
Summary: Rick and Louis finally make it out to Brazzaville.
Relationships: Rick Blaine/Louis Renault
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks and the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts

“And remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart.”

“That is my least vulnerable spot,” says Captain Louis Renault, with that smirk across his face.

Rick almost wishes he’d aimed the gun at Renault’s face instead. Renault’s oddly handsome looks _are_ his most vulnerable spot.

But that was ages ago, before Rick and Renault (no, _Louis_ now) escaped Casablanca for parts unknown, started running down Africa towards Free France in Brazzaville. Supposedly to do good, although they’ve mostly just been on the run for their lives. They were traveling on trains, originally, until they started getting recognized and figured it would be better to go on foot or find some camels as opposed to getting shot on the spot by the Nazis.

Rick still cannot quite believe that Louis is by his side, the little bottom feeder having finally proven his worth by showing his good nature and helping Ilsa and Laszlo escape. Louis no longer wears his police uniform, having abandoned it long ago for just a plain shirt and pants. Louis wasn’t a Captain anymore, either. Or at least Louis presumed he wasn’t any longer. Maybe the Free French would hail him as a hero, but he very much doubts it.

No, Louis had been on the wrong side for too long. Rick figures that the Free French will take anyone and tells Louis so, but it’s clear the petite Frenchman has his doubts.

This all leads up to how they found themselves in a tent a few miles outside Brazzaville, with Louis wanting to take in his freedom for the last time. Rick assures him he has nothing to worry about, for what Rick tells himself is the last time. If Louis wants to play the coward again, fine. Rick is going into the city tomorrow, with or without him.

“Rick...” Louis says, almost sleepily.

“Yes, Louis?”

“You will come visit me in prison, if they don’t just shoot me on the spot?”

Rick sighs deeply and exasperatedly. “Look, Louis. They need all the help they can get. And it’s not like you were notorious anywhere _but_ Casablanca. I bet they won’t even know who you are.”

Louis sniffs haughtily. “You underestimate my legend.”

Rick has to hold back a hearty laugh. Is Louis just fucking with him at this point? He turns on his bedroll to look Louis in the eye. “You’re just a prefect of police for a refugee port. _Former_ prefect of police, I should say.”

“Hmmm...I hope your instincts are correct, in this instance.”

“Louis, when are my instincts _not_ correct?”

“You didn’t know I was going to let Ilsa and Laszlo go. I mean, you would have preferred I didn’t let them go at all. Or at least not Ilsa. I saw it on your face. Y’know, for a supposedly stoic man, you do tend to let your emotions out a little _too_ frequently. Like how I know right now you’re about to strangle me.”

Louis is right, because of course he is. They haven’t spoken about Ilsa the entire trip, and Rick does not like to be reminded of how he just...let her go. He knows it’s what he had to do--she wanted Laszlo, desperately--but she had wanted him once, too. Rick realizes he’s staring blankly off to the distance when Louis rests a hand on Rick’s arm.

“Rick, where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” Rick growls, turning away from Louis.

Louis sighs and huffs a little. And then, coldly: “She’s never coming back to you, Rick. Even once Laszlo’s dead, and he probably will get himself killed. It wouldn’t kill _you_ to be a little more open to your fellow man. I’m the only friend you’ve got left.”

“I have Sam.”

“Sam’s thousands of miles away, stuck in Casablanca. You can’t exactly send him a telegram.”

“Maybe when we get to the city. When we _finally_ get to the city.” Rick growls a little more. Louis can take it.

“Rick, face me, please.” Is that a hint of desperation in Louis’s voice? Louis knows it is, because he is desperate. Rick isn’t sure; it’s probably just another manipulation. But Rick nevertheless turns back to him.

“What do you want, Louis?”

“These past few months have been...enjoyable for me. I haven’t felt this alive since the last war. I don’t particularly want it to end.”

“Is that why we haven’t gone into the city yet?”

“Perhaps. What if we didn’t return to civilization, what if we just...kept wandering. I don’t think I’m meant for the world anymore...and I don’t think you ever were.”

“There’s a war out there. Good men and women are dying.”

“We’ve fought in wars. Plenty of them. Would it be so bad if we stopped?”

“What _are_ you going on about?” Rick’s not growling so much anymore, as genuinely curious. Louis isn’t typically the most introspective guy.

Louis grabs one of Rick’s shoulders, getting a little too close for comfort. Rick’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. You can only sleep next to a man in the middle of the wilderness before you both get a little squirrelly. Rick’s lying to himself if he says he hasn’t imagined pinning Louis under him, kissing him deeply and making the man who was the eternal thorn in his side for so long moan.

Rick has slept with a few men in his life, usually in the middle of some protracted conflict, when there was either too much time or not enough.

But _Louis_? He’s not a bad looking man, of course. He’s charming, he’s suave...but he’s also a little weasel. Rick makes the first move, however, wrapping one of his rough hands around the back of Louis’s neck. Louis shivers a little at the touch, and it’s not exactly cold outside or in their tent. “Christ, Renault, how long have you wanted this?”

The little man does not respond, instead leaning forward further, uniting the two in a forceful kiss. Rick is taken aback (and he so rarely is) by how hungry Louis seems for this. Rick supposes it has been a while for them both, but there’s some lingering feeling in the back of his mind that Louis has been hinting at this for a while, and it’s just now that he’s decided to be blatant about it. Ilsa had told him once that Louis had said he would be in love with Rick too...if he were a woman.

Rick had laughed it off as just the quirky little Frenchman being his usual flirtatious self, no matter who he was talking about.

But as Louis grabs onto Rick’s shirt tightly, with their lips clasped against each other, and Rick holds on tighter to the back of Louis’s neck, Rick knows that they both want it. They’ve battled each other for a while--in their own little war--and now the armistice has come. Louis breaks the kiss with a moan. Rick lets go of the back of Louis’s neck.

“Why, Mr. Blaine,” Louis says breathlessly, “I finally see what Ilsa saw in you.”

“Oh, shut up, Louis,” Rick says with more of a smile than a scowl, maneuvering himself so he’s on top of the smaller man. Louis does not protest.

The next day, they go into the city. Rick squeezes Louis’s hand before they walk through the gates.

And Rick was right. No one recognizes Louis.

That night, in a small room over a bar, their armistice continues. Maybe they’ll leave Brazzaville at some point and keep adventuring, like Louis had hoped. Maybe they’ll stay and fight. Whatever happens, Rick just hopes he won’t lose another friend.


End file.
